Coincidence
by koolio19
Summary: Eerie coincidences occur at a scene Catherine is working. What do they mean for her and who is behind them? Not a good summary but PLEASE read anyway! Grillows! Yay! r&r!
1. Slice

I don't own anything CSI or CSIish unless it comes from my brain!

**Author: **koolio19 or as know onother sites tabby19

**Rating:** M

**Summary: **Eeriecoincidences occur at a scene Catherine is working. What do they all mean and who is behind it? (I'm not good at summaries but please read anyway! =)) Grillows! Yay!

Just so you know this takes place after Warrick dies and before Grissom leaves. Lindsey we'll say is like 15 years old. (Cause I'm not really sure how old she's supposed to be now in the show.)

*************

**Coincidence **

**Chapter 1: Slice**

I heard the soft click of the front door as it closed, then the muffled thud of a purse and shoes being discarded, in the closest available place to the discarder, followed by the patter of socks on the hardwood. Slowly it became increasingly louder until the two size seven feet came into the kitchen.

"Hi Mom," the teen said to my turned back.

"Hey Linds, how was the movie?" I asked, still keeping my attention focused on the tomato I was slicing.

"Sadly it wasn't as good as we had hoped it would be. It was actually kinda lame." she replied as she headed for the fridge.

"Oh well that's too bad," I replied while trying not to laugh. I told her that S_pace Monsters_ _Here We Come_ probably didn't sound like an incredibly entertaining movie, but she swore it would be great.

"What's for dinner? I'm starving," she complained as she searched through the over stuffed fridge for a soda pop.

"I'm almost done with burgers; can you live with out food for another ten minutes my poor starving child?" I mocked.

"Yumm! I love your burgers!" she smiled as she opened a root beer.

"Good, do you want onions?" I asked as I threw the ends of the tomato into the garbage and rinsed off the knife.

"Only always!"

"Ok I'll finish them up, if you set the table. Sound like a deal?"

"Only if they come with French fries." she said jokingly as she grabbed the ketchup and set it on the small, square table top.

"Of course," I laughed. I listened to the rattling of plates and the clanking of silver wear as I flipped the patties and found an onion in the cramped fridge.

"So…," I could hear the hesitation in my daughters' voice as she tried to decide whether or not to continue, "How's Uncle Gil?"

"Oh," I said as I began cutting the onion into thin slices, "He's great! We just wrapped up a case that evolved bugs and you know how happy bugs make him." I giggled smally under my breath.

"When are you going to tell him?" she asked as she busied herself with folding a napkin to look like a bird or something so she wouldn't have to meet my eyes when I turned and looked at her.

"Tell him what exactly?" I asked, my brow scrunched as I tried to figure out where this was going.

"You know, that you… well love him." she said bluntly.

Totally surprised by these words the knife in my hand missed the onion and sliced my palm instead.

"Shit!" I gasped; quickly dropping the knife onto the cutting board and applying pressure onto the wound in my left hand with my right, but the blood continued to seep out from between my fingers and trailed down my forearms.

"What? What happened?" Lindsey cried as see saw the blood drops racing down my arms to the floor.

"I just cut my hand. It's nothing, I'll be fine in a minute." I said trying to keep the pain in my hand from creeping into my voice seeing that she was scared enough. "Just grab me some paper towels and the first aid kit and I'll be as good as new."

She ran from the room and I could hear her in the bathroom riffling through all the stuff in the medicine cabinet looking for the first aid kit. As soon as she found it she came dashing around the corner grabbing the roll of paper towels off the rack as she came.

"Here," she said setting the things before me on the counter, "How bad is it? Do you think you'll need stitches? Is it my fault? I'm sorry! I-"

"I'm fine, I'm ok." I said cutting off her rapid fire questions. I would have grabbed her hand to calm her down, but considering it was covered with blood I didn't think that would have helped. I looked at her kindly and said, "It wasn't your fault. I," putting an emphasis on the _I_, "wasn't paying attention."

She sat quietly and watched as I began dabbing at the slowly clotting blood until I could see the gash in my palm. It wasn't too terribly deep, which I was thankful for, because then I wouldn't have to bother myself in going and waiting in the ER for 5 hour just for a cut. And after a few more minutes of nursing it I had it carefully wrapped in gauze and ready to go.

Lindsey stood when the beeper on the stove went off, took the patties out and set them on the buns I had laid out, and then took them and their makings over to the table. While I took the bloody towels over to the garbage, put the knife in the dish washer, and cleaned up the few drops of blood that had won the race to the floor before I could catch them in my towel.

For the first few minutes we ate in silence. I didn't know whether it was because the food was good or if we just couldn't think of anything to say.

"I'm sorry I surprised you and made you cut yourself. I didn't mean to," she said quietly, her head down as she slowly swirled a French fry in the pool of ketchup on her plate.

"I know you didn't mean to so don't blame yourself, hon. I'm fine."

Slowly she looked up and met my understanding eyes and smiled. I reached across the table with my good hand and squeezed hers to reinforce my words.

"The burgers are good thought. Thank you," she said trying to brighten the mood.

I laughed, "Your welcome."

Slowly my laughter died down and we ate in silence again, but this time it was a comfortable silence.

"So are you going to answer my question?" Lindsey asked, eyebrows raised and waiting.

"What question might that be?" I asked even though I knew perfectly well what she wanted me to answer.

"Why don't you tell him that you love him?"

"What makes you thinks I love him?" I asked mostly to get on her nerves, but also wanting to know if it was really that obvious.

"Well, you always giggle like a school girl when you talk about him-"

"I do not!" I said open mouthed.

"No! Do not interrupting me when I am speaking to you young lady," she mocked trying to sound professional. "Now where was I? Oh yes; the way you look at him when he's not looking and you two know every thing about each other. Every good thing and bad, there are no secrets between the two of you. So if he didn't like something about you or you about him you wouldn't still be best friends."

She was right when I thought about it. Especially on the last part, we didn't have secrets (well except for the fact that I love him). He knew my life story and I his, so there wasn't like there was some secret demon lying with in me that he doesn't know about.

I looked up and noticed the smirk and her face as she waited for my response. She was right and she knew it.

"Ok, yes, I do love him," a huge grin spread across her face, "But," and with that one word that grin disappeared as fast as it came, "He's my best friend and he has been for twenty years, I won't risk that on some fantasy. And not to mention it's against lab policy to have a relationship with a coworker especially a supervisor."

"Screw lab policy!" she yelled.

"Language!" I yelled back.

But she went on as if I hadn't said anything, "When two people are made for each other like you two are a stupid peace of paper shouldn't be able to stop you from being together!" Her voice suddenly lowered into a plea," Can't you tell how his face falls every time you tell about your next date with some random guy you meet in a bar only the night before. It crushes him!"

She stood up and threw her hands up in the air when I didn't respond, but I couldn't say anything even if it I wanted to. I had to get the lump out of my throat first so words could follow, but that would mean crying and I couldn't do that, not in front of her.

"But I guess you don't care! So go ahead, find another drunk guy to make out with! I'm sure Uncle Gil will get over it eventually!" She yelled then stormed out of the room, up the stairs, and slammed her door.

As soon as I was sure she wasn't coming back down I allowed the tears to cascade down my face like waterfalls. I slammed my fists down on the table only to gasp in pain as my left hand made contact and made me want to cry even harder. I cradled my hand against my chest until it stopped throbbing and the waterfalls had dried. Then I stood up gathered the dishes, being careful of my swelling hand, and dumped them into the sink.

Slowly I climbed the stairs and walked down the hallway to my bedroom. The bedroom I hadn't shared with someone for years. As if on autopilot I changed, brushed my teeth and crawled under the covers. Wrapping myself in the warm, sheltering blankets I drifted of into a deep nightmare filled sleep.


	2. Blue Eyes

Chapter 2 is up! I've been working on it all day and I'm excited to hear what you guys think! So enjoy! =)

**Chapter 2: Blue Eyes**

Through the deep layer of fog that surrounded my brain I could make out the muffled ringing of my cell phone. And as I became more aware the ringing became increasingly louder until I couldn't ignore it any longer.

I reached blindly over to the night stand and tried to find the maker of the pestering noise. My hand wandered around the table top without success, so I reluctantly opened my eyes to aid its efforts, finding the phone only an inch from my finger tips. After reclining back against the pillows I flipped open the phone, "Willows," I said, my voice heavy with sleep.

"Good morning Catherine!" came the voice of my supervisor, "We have a 419 so get up and get over here." His voice helped to dissipate the morning fog that covered my brain.

"Ugh, Gil, what time is it?" I asked crankily.

"It's 2:15, Catherine. I could have woken you up at 1, but I gave that one to Nick so just be thankful and get up."

"Ok. I'm up, I'm up!" I said as I threw the covers back, submitting my warm body to the cool September air. I grabbed the pen and note pad that is always beside my bed and asked for the address. After he gave it to me, I hung up, and got ready.

As I was walking down the hallway I stopped at Lindsey's door and peaked inside to see her sleeping form snuggled underneath her lavender quilt. I tiptoed silently over to her side and softly brushed the hair from her face, kissing her now exposed forehead.

I whispered an 'I love you', then as quietly as I came closed the door and walked out to my awaiting car.

I pulled up and parked next to a police car with its lights still flashing, grabbed my kit from the back seat, and hopped out. A small crowd of anxious neighbors had gathered just outside the yellow crime scene tape that roped off an ordinary looking house. It was painted a dark green color with deep red trim giving it a natural feel to it. It was a cute little house in a cute little neighborhood, one that probably doesn't see much crime let alone a murder.

After I had passed through the gathering of people I flashed my badge to the officer behind the yellow barrier then bent over to walk underneath it as he kindly held it up for me. I said a quick thanks then continued on up the winding sidewalk that led up to the front porch where Brass, Gil, and Greg were standing.

"Hey guys;" I said as soon as I was with in hearing range

They each in turn murmured a hello then we got down to business.

"We have female DB. Her name is Holly Wilson, 45, her neighbors tell us she lived alone. We got an anonymous 911 call about an hour ago. All the guy said was the address then he hung up. So when the police came to check it out they found the front door open and the body in the kitchen. They said they made sure not to touch anything that they didn't have to," Brass said catching us up.

"Maybe the anonymous caller was the killer." Greg said.

"Why would the killer tell us where the body was?" asked Brass.

"Maybe he wanted us to find her," I said.

Our thoughts were interrupted when David walked up the front porch stairs and asked where the body was. We all followed Brass into the house, through the living room and into the kitchen where we found a woman lying face down in a pool of blood. As we walked in I was hit with the familiar scent of iron, but something else as well. I had smelled it before, but I couldn't put my finger on it.

"Smells like she just colored her hair," I commented when I finally realized what it was.

"Is that what that is?" Gil asked.

"Yeah haven't you ever tried it before, Mr. Gray?" I laughed as I ran my uninjured hand through his gray curls.

"No I haven't," he said as he playfully slapped my hand away.

We both refocused our attention back on the scene as David kneeled down beside the vic.

I took my gloves out of my kit and easily slid my right hand into the first one then struggled to get the skin tight glove to fit over my gauze covered left. Gil noticed this and looked up, "What happened to your hand, Cath?" he questioned causing everyone's eyes to turn to me.

"Nothing I just cut my hand last night, that's all." I said as I finally stretched the glove over my hand.

Thankfully Gil didn't question me anymore and turned his attention back to David as he looked over the body. I grabbed my camera and began taking photos of the body position and the blood pools around her.

After a few minutes, David with the help of Greg turned her over so she was lying face up. And as soon as they took a close look at her face they were stunned into silence along with the rest of us. She looked just like me!

Staring out at us through recently died strawberry blonde hair, were dead crystal blue eyes. Even her facial features could have been compared to mine. She was also dressed in black slacks and a blue tank top, something I would usually wear.

Everyone slowly looked from her to me then back again as I just stared open mouthed down at the woman before me. If she had come up to me on the street and told me I was her long lost twin sister I would have never doubted her for a minute.

Finally the silence was broken by Greg, but, "Wow," was all he could say.

"Yeah," I said distantly, never taking my eyes from hers.

"Catherine?" I barely heard Grissom's soft voice call to me.

"Yeah," I said again, still focused on her piercing blue eyes.

"Catherine, are you alright?" I heard the concern in his voice and it seemed to shake me from my entrancement in her lifeless eyes. And the hand he laid on my arm only helped me look away and into his worried ones.

"Yeah I'm… I'm ok. It's just a little eerie I guess." I said, my voice becoming stronger as I spoke.

I looked down to the camera that was still in my hands then back up to his face.

"Are you sure, because you can always go help Nick with his case if you want? I'm sure he wouldn't mind the help." He smiled trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work as he had hoped, but he didn't have to know that so I smiled back hoping to reassure him.

"Thanks, but I'm ok, really."

After a few more minutes of silence every one began doing their parts. David was looking over the body and documenting every scratch, while Greg started on the perimeter, Brass went to talk to the neighbors, and Gil and I began processing the inside of the house.

We found a lot of various prints, most of which will probably come back to the vic. I also found some bloody paper towels in the garbage can and some blood drops leading away from the body. I silently hoped that they would be from the killer so this case would be solved quickly.

After David said she had some lacerations on her hand, I collected and documented all the knives in the house. He also said that she died of a single gun shot wound to the right lung and had many cuts and bruises along her arms, so she put up a good fight. This made my blood drops belonging to the killer theory even more plausible, but there was still one very important piece of evidence missing: the gun.

After a search for the gun came up empty we decided to head back to the lab and digest all that we had uncovered.

I hope you guys like it so far! And just so you know, I'm not that great with all the technicalities of everything so if I get something wrong, I'm sorry! Anyway, please read and review! It will be greatly appreciated! =) Thank you to all who read!


	3. Magenta

Here's chapter 3 of Coincidence! enjoy!

*********

**Chapter 3: Magenta**

Knives spread across the lit layout table, from bread knives to butcher knives, from blunted blades to sharpened ones. I have been there, before all these silent witnesses for an hour now, checking for prints and blood. So far I had a couple prints and no blood what so ever. I was quickly running out of options.

I picked up number fifteen out of a total eighteen. Finally only there more to go, I thought, as I swirled the print brush in my fingers. Nothing. Hopefully, I swabbed the blade and handle for any traces of blood. After finding the correct solution, I dripped a couple drops onto the swab and waited for it to turn magenta meaning it tested positive for blood, but it didn't.

Number sixteen, a small steak knife was a dud, no prints no blood.

Number seventeen, a sharp filet knife had a partial print, but no blood.

And number eighteen, a large chopping knife had no prints after I swirled my magic dust around on the handle. But as my swab turned a bright magenta color my eyes brightened as well.

I smiled to myself, not noticing Gil walk in the door that was to my back. He stood there for a moment before laughing, "So I'm guessing you either found something or you just find life funny."

I jumped slightly and turned around to find the gray, scruffy face to match the deep voice. "I did find some blood on the very last knife I processed, which I did find somewhat funny once I got over being pissed that it was the last one," I smiled.

"Oh, so I was right on both accounts," he smirked.

"Don't you be gettin' smug with me," I reprimanded.

"Sorry," he said softly as he walked over to sit beside me and my knives.

"I'll forgive you this time."

"Thanks. So which one had the blood on it?" he asked, surveying my collection.

"This one, it's the one that I found in the dishwasher," I pointed to the one in front of me. I looked back up at him and opened my mouth to continue talking when I realized something. I turned my eyes back to the table top and looked around it slowly. I could feel Gil's confused eyes on me as I did.

"What is it?" he asked concerned.

"This handle… it's different than the others," I said as I placed a gloved hand on the black and stainless steal handle of the bloody knife and looked at the wooden handles of the others.

"Maybe the killer brought his own weapon," Gil stated still unsure as to why this fact upset me so.

"But-," I started but was cut off by a frantic looking Wendy running into the room.

"You guys… will never believe… what I just found!" she gasped out of breath.

"What?" Gil asked even more confused.

"The blood … from the bloody towels …Catherine found in the garbage… You'll never guess who it belongs to!" she cried.

"Who?" we yelled in unison.

"You, Catherine!" there were a few moments of shocked silence that filled the room, the only sound was that of Wendy's raged breathing as she tried to catch her breath.

"How…how is that possible?" I said faintly.

"I don't know! I even double and triple checked it to be sure! It's defiantly your blood, unless you contaminated it somehow," she said.

"No, no I didn't contaminate it," I said, shaking my head lightly.

"This case just gets weirder and weirder," Gil said.

I looked down to stare at the table and saw the knife before me. My eyes widened with fear and realization.

"Catherine, what is it?" Wendy asked, concern contorting her normally uplifting face.

I grabbed the swabs, which were securely inside their boxes, and held them out to Wendy for her to take, "Go check this," I demanded.

Noticing the urgency in my voice, she obeyed without question, racing the hall almost running into a janitor and his cart on the way. I watched fixated as he walked past the window looking in with a glare in his eyes.

My attention was pulled away from the man as Gil's soothing voice cut through my fear-induced staring contest. "Catherine," he repeated, "Catherine, what's wrong?"

He placed his hand on my cheek and turned it toward him in a gentle and fluid movement. "What is going on?" I could sense the worry in his voice and could see the fear fill his blue eyes.

"The… the towels," I began, "They had my blood on them and they were found in the garbage, right?" I went on without giving him a chance to answer. "And the knife, it was different from the other so it obviously didn't belong there and it was found in the dishwasher." I paused to catch my breath.

"So what does all that mean though?"

"This guy knows me; we know that just from looking at the body. I cut my hand last night with a knife that looks identical to this one, and then I put my bloody towels into the garbage and the knife into the dishwasher! That can't all be just a coincidence."

Gil just sat there staring at me for a minute absorbing all that I had told him. His beautiful, blue eyes widened when the facts finally made it into the correct spot in his brain.

"So you think…," he pointed to the knife that lay on the table, "That has your blood on it too," it was more of a statement than a question.

"Exactly."

"Jesus Christ! That… That means that bastard was in your house!"

"That's what I'm afraid of," I said softly.

Suddenly, my pager vibrated against my side sending deep vibrations through out my body. I snatched it up and looked at the name, Wendy.

I stood up and grabbed Gil's hand, pulling him to his feet and lead him at a run through the halls of the lab. I could feel the confused looks of the bystanders in the hall way on our backs, but I didn't care. As we halted just inside the door of the DNA lab, Wendy was pacing back and forth in front of the printer waiting for the results.

We all held our breath as the printer swiftly laid down the results on the white piece of paper and presented it to us. Wendy snatched it up, her eyes scanned the page and I could tell by the way her forehead contorted and how her confused and scared eyes looked up and locked with mine that the results had come back to me.

She held it out to us and Gil grabbed it out of her shaking hand. After he read it, he slammed it down on the counter, "What is wrong with this guy?" he yelled causing a few people to look at us as they passed by.

"What…what does this mean?" Wendy asked I could hear the tremor in her voice.

"Just everybody calm down," I tried to sound soothing, but I didn't know whether I was talking more to myself or to them.

"We need to find this guy! He was in your damn house, Catherine!" The anger in Gil's voice was dangerously high.

"He was what?" Wendy cried, her voice cracking slightly.

I closed the distance between us and led her over to a chair, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder once she was seated. "Just take a deep breath and calm yourself," I said softly.

She looked up at me, her brown eyes lined with worry. "Everything's going to be fine, ok?" She nodded not trusting her voice. "Ok," I smiled, trying to reassure her and myself.

I looked up to Gil who had been watching me sooth Wendy like a mother would an upset child and said, "I'm going to call my mother and ask her to get Lindsey from school and take her to her house. I don't want her to be at home alone."

"Good idea," he said, his voice calmer than it had been only moments before.

*********

I'm a little depressed that I only got one review for the last two chapters! By the way thanks you S-Nixon for the review! So please review they make me happy! And when I'm happy I write more! lol =) Thanks!


	4. The Doc

Here's the next chapter! I hope you all still like it! =)

*********

**Chapter 4: **

After I had arranged Lindsey's pick up with my Mother and gotten a cup of coffee to help quiet my nerves, I got a page from Gil saying to meet him in the morgue for the autopsy.

I grabbed a lab coat from the hook outside the metal double doors, took a deep breath and pushing the doors aside I strode in.

Grissom and Doc Robbins were huddled over the body as the good doctor was showing Gil were the single bullet penetrated the left lung then exited it to find its resting place in her spine.

The Doc gently pried it out of its crevasse, as I walked over, and placed it into a medal pan.

"Hey Doc, what have we got?" I asked as I came to stand next to Gil and opposite Doc Robbins with my look-alike laying between us.

"Well, I just extracted a 9mm from her spine. It first punctured her left lung suffocating her. That's your cause of death." he said.

I nodded my understanding then looked down at her face noticing that her strawberry locks weren't as bright and vibrant as it had been before. I opened my mouth to say something and pointed, only to be cut off by the Doc.

"Yeah her hair, I know," he nodded. "When I was rinsing her down most of the coloring came out. It must have been temporary dye or something."

I was glad it had washed away, because without her strawberry blonde curls she didn't look so much like me. This eased my constantly churning stomach.

"Interesting," I said softly. "David said something about defensive wounds…"

"Oh right, yes, she had a numerous amount of bruises and cuts along her arms," he picked up her right arm and turned it so I could see the battered underside. "And she has a large gash across her left palm. I at first thought that it was another defensive wound, but then I realized it was done post-modem. I'm not really sure why," he said as he twisted her wrist so her palm up faced up.

I just stared at it for a minute, my hand pressed against my mouth until I was brought back to reality by Gil's gloved hand being placed on my goosebump covered arm.

"Cath?" he asked.

"I slowly looked up to Doc Robbins and said faintly, "I know why he did it."

I looked down and began unwrapping the gauze that covered most of my left hand. I heard Gil's breath catch as he caught an unobstructed view of the wound that marked my hand and I laid my up turned palm beside hers. They looked almost identical.

"So this creep was trying to make this girl look like you?" Gil said confused again. Not many cases frazzle Gil, so when one does, you better believe it's bad.

"No," I said in a voice barely above a whisper, but that was the loudest I could produce at the moment. "He didn't choose her because she was her. He chose her because she was me."

*********

Sorry this one was a short chapter, but I'm having so much fun writing this and hopefully you are having fun reading it, so I'll try to update soon! Review, please!! Thanks to everyone who has!! =)


	5. Gentleman

Hey guys sorry it took me a while to get this chapter up, but I had exams then we went on vacation so I didn't have access to a computer! I know excuses, excuses! lol.

*********

**Chapter 5: Differences in Gentlemen**

Gil and I walked slowly side by side down the silent hallway towards the locker room. I could tell he was angry and worried among other things just by the deep calming breaths he was taking. He had been pissed when we realized that this killer had been inside my house and then was fuming after we realized this murder might be a message of warning to me personally.

Neither of us wanted to believe that this creep was after me, but we both knew deep down in our guts that it was true. So we walked on in silence, each immersed in our own thoughts as we tried to digest the day's stresses.

We finally rounded the corner and walked into the small locker room that all of the CSIs shared. I went to my locker, opened it and grabbed a clean shirt from the hanger as I turned my back to Gil who had sat heavily on the wooden bench in the middle of the room.

He looked down and studied the floor being the ever gentleman as I changed my shirt, not that I would have cared if he had looked, it was only my bare back he would have seen. After I had deposited my dirty shirt back into the locker, I reached for my purse only to realize that I had left it in my office. I sighed then slammed the door closed turning to Gil as I did so.

I looked over to him and saw that he was still studying the floor intently as if there were a million bugs on it and he couldn't inspect each one enough for his standards if he stayed in that very spot for forever. Slowly I lowered myself down next to him and rested a comforting hand on his slumped shoulder.

"What's wrong?" I asked gently.

He looked up at me taking my small hand off his shoulder and holding it between both of his large but gentle ones in his lap, "I… I guess I'm just worried about you."

I gave him a small smile, "I'll be ok," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring voice.

"Not if you go back to your house you might not be. What if he's waiting there for you?" He exclaimed.

"Well… I," I hesitated.

"No, you are coming over to my house tonight. I don't want you to be alone over there, Ok?" it sounded like more of a demand than a question.

"Ok," I said softly not really wanting to be at home by myself either so it didn't take very much convincing for me to agree.

Suddenly he wrapped his arms around my shoulders pulling me into the safety of his embrace. I responded gladly by nestling my head into his chest and circling my arms around his waist, while he laid his chin on my head and rubbed soothing circles on my back.

We sat like this, in the dim light of the locker room, just absorbing the comfort the embrace emanated, for a few breathtaking minutes. Then reluctantly we pulled back and looked deep into each others eyes.

I felt my heart yearning to gently lean forward and kiss those soft lips that always spoke the gentlest words making my heart soar. I felt my fingertips desire to run freely and repeatedly through his silver and gray curls. And I felt my whole body wishing to be back in his protective arms and stay there forever in his embrace. But my ever present brain restrained me and I felt the pain of my hearts protests.

Not being able to keep his intense gaze and follow my brains rules at the same time I looked down into my lap. He seemed to notice my discomfort, "Well… we… we should probably go," he said quietly.

"Yeah… yes, that would probably be a good idea," I said just as quietly as I looked back up to his face.

He nodded silently so I stood up with him soon following, then together we walked into the hall. As we reached the front door I realized that I still needed to get my purse, "Oh, Gil I forgot I need to go grab my purse from my office."

"Oh, Ok. Do you want me to come with you?" he asked.

"No, it will just take a second. I'll meet you at your truck in a minute." I smiled when he nodded then turned around to hurry back to my office. I could have sworn I heard him mumble, 'I'll be waiting,' which made my smile reach my eyes for the first time that day.

As I walked I noticed that most of the graveyard staff had been replaced by day shift, so that they could sleep and eat which was desperately what I needed right now.

I could feel the lack-of-sleep induced haze begin to cloud my brain and my eye lids becoming increasingly heavy. My body was trying to remind me of my fitful night sleep I had last night and I prayed this case wouldn't interfere with my greatly required sleep tonight.

I tried to shake my head clear as I pushed my office door open, not bothering to turn the lights on I strode in and over to my desk. I heard the door click closed behind me and mentally cursed myself for closing the blinds and making it so damn dark in here.

My hands fumbled around on the desk top until I found the leather strap of my purse. I pulled it up and tried to swing it over my shoulder only to have I collide with something behind me.

I gasped when I head someone grunt from the impact. I tried to turn around, but a strong hand and an awful smelling cloth covered my mouth and nose muffling my scream for help.

I heard my purse and its contents clatter to the floor as I struggled against the strong arms that encircled my small frame from behind. I swung my fist up over my head colliding with what felt like a nose. I heard him stifle a cry into my hair as to not call anyone's attention to our confrontation.

I could feel the warm liquid on my knuckles and secretly hoped I had broken his nose. Suddenly I felt his sturdy fist ram into my ribs. I cried out into the cloth that still covered my mouth. The chloroform it had been soaked in was burning my nose, throat, and lungs, but I had to keep breathing if I was going to try and fight back.

I could feel it taking affect on me as my eyelids drooped dangerously. I just needed to make him cry out enough to let someone know we were in here. I regretted Gil not coming with me or at least not leaving the door open.

I tried to ram my elbow into his ribs, but I only managed to make him grunt and get pissed off.

"Bitch," he swore under his breath as he threw me forward hitting my temple on the edge of my desk. I didn't even have time to cry out before I was engulfed by darkness.


	6. She is Love

Sorry it took me so long to update! I'm kind of having writers block so forgive my lateness! And a new thing is I'm going to have different POV's, so this one is Grissom's POV, there will be Catherine's of course, and I'm not sure if I'll add any others or not, but I guess you will just have to find out! lol Ok I'll stop now so you can read! Enjoy!

*********

**Chapter 6: She is Love**

**~Grissom's POV~**

My fingers tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel of the Denali to the beat of the song that swayed from the radio and danced around me. I had never heard it before, but it caught my attention.

"She makes me want to believe, they call her love, love, love, love, love," the words, sung slowly and meaningfully, filled the air with a warmth that I had never felt before, one that caressed each organ, vein, and cell in my body as it filled me. My fingers silenced as I listened closely to the words, "She is love, she is all I need."

The song slowly faded into the background as my heart squeezed and thoughts swirled around in my head coming straight from my heart on fluttering wings of butterflies.

When I thought about the lyrics 'she is love' I could hear the whisper of a name in the great depths of my heart, but I couldn't quiet make it out for it was too deep within me. When it finally arrived on purple silken wings it whispered again, 'Catherine'. Not Sara, not even a tiny glimpse of Sara was rolling around between the millions of pictures and beautiful memories of Catherine that immersed me. I was surrounded in her gorgeous strawberry locks, fixated by her deep blue eyes, and close to her warm body.

I had never been so confident about anything in my entire life, "I love Catherine," I whispered. I smiled loving how her familiar name felt on my lips so close to the word 'love'. My voice became stronger as I said it again, "I love Catherine Willows!"

A laugh played from my throat as I quickly unbuckled my seat belt and threw open the car door, but as soon as my feet hit the wet pavement and the cool night air slapped me across the face, I stopped. I just stood there next to the car, door open, radio on, and engine still running. I stared at the front door of the lab for what seemed like hours just waiting, either for her to come out to me or my feet to carry me in to her.

I slowly climbed back into the Denali and stared out the windshield into the dark, my confidence lost to the night. I watched silently as rain drops began to fall, lightly at first then gradually harder until it was pouring. Then a bright jagged flash cut across the sky followed instantly by a low rumbling thunder. I jumped breaking my staring contest with the rain.

Sighing deeply, I glanced at my watch noticing that I'd been sitting here for almost twenty minutes and Catherine had yet to come out. How long could it take to walk in, grab her purse, and walk out?

I groaned as I took the keys out of the ignition, pushed my door open, and ran out into the rain towards the lab. I pulled the door open, relived when a warm gush of air rushed at me chasing away the chill that had encircled me from the rain on my short run here.

I looked up to see Judy, the graveyard receptionist, staring at me kindly from behind her counter. "Is something wrong, Mr. Grissom?" she asked concerned.

"No, but have you, by any chance, seen Catherine?"

She shook her head, "No sir, not since she was with you."

"Thank you, Judy." She smiled at me then bent back over her paper work

I walked down the hallway looking into each examination room and lab I passed looking for her. It was unsuccessful, but I did notice Hodges fumbling with the lid of a test tube. I watched amused as I walked slowly by. He was bent over trying to pry the stopper off the top of a test tube, half filled with a blue liquid, but failing miserably. Finally the stopper popped off surprising him (I could have sworn I even heard a small girlish scream) causing the test tube to drop and shatter on the floor, spilling its contents everywhere.

I chuckled under my breath as I refocused my attention back to the hall as a janitor's cart collided with my arm. I grunted then said, "Excuse me," but he totally ignored me and continued pushing his cart down the hall as if he merely ran over a pebble on a gravel road.

"God, what's his problem," I mumbled under my breath as I walked into Catherine's office.

It was dark and the blinds were closed so I reached over and flipped the light switch turning on the florescent lights and illuminating the small office, I turned my eyes to the office in front of me and I gasped.

*********

Please review!! =) Happy Forth of July!! Oh and I don't own the song "She is Love" by Parachute just so you know!


	7. Where are You?

**Hey everybody!! I'm sorry it took so long to get another update up! Please forgive my lack of ideas my head has been stressed out with school and hasn't been very creative lately. And I figured that you guys would rather have an update that was well written, then hurried and stupid. So here it is enjoy!! =)**

*********

**Chapter 7: Where are You?**

**~ Grissom's POV ~**

I watched from the lab across the hall as Greg and Nick searched every inch of Catherine's deserted office; pictures were taken, samples were collected, and notes were written down. With a hint of desperation in every movement, they tried to piece together Catherine's last moments in this room which would hopefully lead us straight to her unharmed self.

My heart beats grew distressingly dark as my mind wandered back to the moment I discovered her office had become our new crime scene:

_The lights now illuminated the small yet comfortable office, but as I turned to view it my throat caught deep inside my chest and my stomach clenched forcing the taste of bile to meet my mouth. Her normally organized desk now had papers and folder scattered across it, some also finding the ground their resting place, the cushioned chair in front of her desk now laid on it's back, legs sticking helplessly in the air, and her purse was accompanying the chair on the floor as well, it's contents spilling out in a disorganized pattern. Franticly, I yelled down the hall for Nick then turning back into the room I noticed the blood that crested the edge of her desk and dripped silently down onto the cold ground causing my heart to droop. Nick ran into the room and skidded to a sudden halt when he too saw the sight before us… _

I shook my head trying to clear my mind it was fogged by a layer of shock that floated above the treacherous waters of my heart. I felt as though those greenish black waters were drowning me, constantly rolling over my head and trapping me in there currents never allowing a moment of calm so I could catch my breath.

As I finally resurfaced I directed my attention back to the manila envelope that laid on the metal examination table. Three drops of crimson life signed the outside of the nameless envelope. Wendy had already confirmed that it had been Catherine's bit of life that had dripped from her pale skin and onto this secret keeper.

Carefully, with gloved hands, I opened the seal and slid the secrets onto the table. Three small pieces of glossy, white paper now laid silently on the table top, slowly then I turned them over to reveal pictures.

My eyes widened as the first picture showed a casually clad Catherine standing at her kitchen counter cutting an onion, her daughter Lindsey behind her holding two plates, her mouth wide in mid-sentence.

This only confirmed our earlier suspicions of him being at her house, but it still unnerved me to know that there was no hope of being wrong.

I then placed that picture behind the rest to reveal another of Catherine, her beautiful features washed in anguish as she clutched her left hand, blood trailing down her forearm. My heart took a stab of regret as I looked into her normally warm blue eyes and only saw pain hidden there.

A deep breath of air filled my lungs as I revealed the last picture. My jaw fell loose of its hinges and dropped as I looked at myself and Catherine staring at each other before a large knife covered examination table.

My stomach churned uneasily at the fact that who ever this creep was he could just walk into the lab have time to take pictures, kidnap her, and leave without anyone's notice.

I slammed the pictures down onto the table in aggravation, "Where are you Catherine?" I whispered desperately to her picture.

************

**Sooo how was it? Did it suck? Was it good? Please let me know so I can improve more next time, but also try to be nice I understand criticism is necessary but somethings are just mean. Thanks for reading!! And ****Happy Halloween****!! =]**


	8. Afraid of the Dark?

Here's another chapter! Sorry it took so long to update I'm having some problems thinking of somewhere to take it and I want it to be perfect for you guys! So I'm going to try to update sooner next time, but no promises. But anyway enjoy this chapter and I'll start working on the next. =)

********

**Chapter 8: Afraid of the Dark?**

**~ Catherine's POV ~**

Blood pumped painfully through the veins in my temples causing them to throb to the rhythm of my beating heart reassuring me that I was still alive.

My body ached as I lied on my side, face pressed into a cold concrete floor. I tried to listen to what was happening around me, for the sound of cars passing by or people talking or breathing. To maybe figure out where I was or who was there before I opened my eyes and showed them that I was awake, but I couldn't hear anything other then my own breathing.

I tried to open my eyes, but they were heavy as if I had worked for two days without any sleep. Finally, I pried them open enough to look around a large, windowless room; squinting into the darkness I noticed a wooden chair stood alone in the center of the room facing away from her. An old, rickety stair case descended against the opposite wall and was illuminated by a thin sliver of light that came from beneath the door at the top of them.

I tried to move my arms from the awkward position they were in behind my back only to have my stride cut off as tight zip ties cut deeply into the tender skin of my wrists causing me to gasp.

"Aw did that hurt?" asked a deep, sarcastic voice.

My heart jumped as I snapped my head up and squinted against the harsh light that was flooding into the room. It soon became blocked by a black, shadowy silhouette of a man as he walked through the doorway. Without taking his eyes from me, he pushed the door closed and plunged us back into the original darkness.

My heart beat quickened, because I couldn't see him anymore with my unaccustomed eyes were used to the harsh light of the outside, no longer the black gloom of the room, so I listened. I listened to his footsteps on the stairs as they creaked, then his shoes hit concrete with a small thump, I could tell he was getting closer and I didn't like it.

Suddenly his footfalls fell silent and I could only make out his light breathing mixed with my slightly heavier breaths. I desperately peered into the deep shadows for movement of some kind or the shape of a figure, but I saw nothing.

"Who are you?" I asked trying desperately to keep my fear from creeping into my voice. When he didn't answer I asked, "Why am I here?"

"Too many questions," was his only responds before, without warning, two large hands materialized from the deep blacks of the room and grasped my shoulders, roughly pulled me to my feet. I gasped and heard a small chuckle at my expense come from in front of me. I swayed unsteadily as the blood in my head pounded harder then before.

Once I had steadied he began to pull me along by my swollen wrists and I had to bite my lip to keep from crying out. Then he let go and I could hear him taking something out of his pocket and I soon felt cold metal on my hand and I knew exactly what it was… a knife.

********

Sorry it was so short, but please review it makes my writing better!! =)


	9. The Plan

Hey everybody, I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I've had no time and been stressed about school, you know excuses, excuses. Anyway, I hope this is decent enough to post. Let me know what you think. =} Please R&R!

*********

**Chapter 9: The Plan**

**~Catherine's POV~**

The cold blade sent a chilling realization from my wrists, up to my head then down my spine. He stood silently behind me, the knife's weight yanking down on the clam mask that I was trying to portray.

"Who am I?" he repeated my earlier question that he hadn't given an answered to. "I'm the one who watches through the window while you make dinner for that little, blonde- headed brat you call your daughter."

I wanted to yell at him for talking about her, but it frightened me to know that he was at my house while Lindsey was there. She could have been in danger because of me, so I kept my mouth shut and he moved on to a different subject and, to him, she was forgotten.

"I'm the one who watches you while you discover the pieces of the puzzle that points the finger at the correct suspect. I'm the one no one ever notices because you always are thinking about cases and evidence that you don't even notice that I'm someone that you should keep an eye on. You & your monkeys work to get bad people off the Las Vegas streets, but what you don't know is there is one hiding right behind you in your own shadow." He became silent allowing his words to echo silently off the windowless walls and come back, punching me deep the chest.

"As for why are you here," he began again, cutting into the stillness, "I was tired of not being noticed, tired of watching so many brilliant murderers cover the TV screens while I stood in the shadows of the ones who put them away. But don't worry; I have come up with a plan, step one has already been carried out: kidnap one of the best criminalists in Las Vegas." I took a shaky deep breath as he stopped talking, removed the knife from my wrist, and put it back into his pocket.

Once his hand was free of his weapon he reached around me, grabbed my waist, and yanked me backwards into his chest, "Of course, you being a woman is defiantly a bonus in the plan." he whispered as he lightly put his face in my hair. I gasped suddenly as his other hand came around and grabbed my breast causing him to chuckle under his breath. "Don't worry, Catherine, I'm not particularly in the mood to rape you." I struggled to pry myself free of his hold, but with my hands still tied behind me and his grip tightening, my struggling was futile.

"I could have taken your little crush instead… Grissom's his name, right?" he asked sarcastically, knowing full well almost every detail of my life from his constant watching of me.

"But then I wouldn't have the pleasure of taking advantage of such beautiful womanly features." His hand that tightly held my breast slowly loosened then began to stroke it gently, causing me to shiver with dread. "It wouldn't have been as much fun dominating over his as it will be you, sweetheart; he's too analytical for my taste."

His voice reminded me of one of the sweet-talking, greasy pigs that would hit on me at bars and clubs. "You have such beautiful womanly-features."

He nuzzled his unshaved face into my cheek and I quickly turned away from him. He growled low into my ear then released his tight hold and shoved me forward. I lost my balance and, without my arms to catch myself, fell face first into the hard concrete floor. My head throbbed and I grunted in pain as I rolled over to see him standing above me, the knife once again in his right hand. I felt the warm blood on my forehead begin rolling slowly down my face as I tried to blink it away from my eyes.

He knelt down beside me and pointed the knife at my blood covered face, "You should be grateful that I'm sharing my fame with you." he spat. "When you die everyone will know your name and mine, we will be spread across the news channels, and I will be famous."

*********

I hoped you all liked it. Please R&R. I like hearing what you guys have to say. =} And maybe if you guys motivate me enough, I'll get the next chapter up sooner than last time.


	10. Property of LV Crime Lab

Hey everybody, I'm sorry I took so long updating, but the beginning was the easy part to write and now it's coming to me in little sporadic ideas that I'm trying to piece together. So I hope it was worth the wait, enjoy! =}

**Chapter 10: Property of LV Crime Lab**

**~ Grissom's POV~ **

I cringed and turned away as she was shoved forward into her desk again, by the attacker who stood behind her, then fell into a disheveled heap on the floor. I looked to my right and noticed the worry that contorted Greg's young face and the anger that twisted Nick's.

Archie, who sat in front of the table of computers, was in deep concentration as he watched the security footage for the third time trying to find a clear view of the attacker's face through the darkness that conquered the slivers of light that were trying to break through the closed blinds.

I turned back towards the security footage of Catherine's office, which was being projected on the wall in front of Archie and his equipment, just as her attacker was roughly throwing her over his shoulder: her arms, tired around the wrists with a plastic zip-tie, were dangling helplessly across his back and her face, concealed by Strawberry- blonde curls, was pressed into his shoulder blade as he walked over to the corner of the small office and pulled a janitor's cart from the darkness.

Using one hand to tightly grip Catherine's small waist, he used the other to fling open the lid on the built-in garbage can that took up half of the yellow cart, he then maneuvered her feet until they dangled above the opening, once satisfied she would fall in the right place he half lowered, half dropped her into it. Then after a few adjusting shoves to her upper body he was able to close the lid, fully concealing his secret inside.

As soon as he had wheeled the cart and Catherine into the hallway and closed the door to the office swiftly behind him, Archie paused the video and looked up at me with a defeated gaze.

"I'm sorry, Grissom, I just can't make out his face clearly enough to get an ID." He cast his eyes downward to the floor, as he slumped his shoulders sadly.

"It's not your fault, Arch," Nick said as he stepped up to the man and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "He obviously knew where the cameras were."

"Yeah, he did, didn't he," Greg said as if realizing it for the first time. "Do you think that he could have worked here?"

"Why would you think that?" Nick asked.

"Well, because he knew where the cameras were and he had a janitor's cart!" he said as if it was obvious and when we didn't answer with the response he had wanted he continued. "You need a key to get into the janitor's storage room, guys."

"He could have brought his own cart," said Nick.

"No, he didn't," said Archie excitedly, as he turned around in his chair towards the computer again. After rewinding the tapes he enlarged the side of the yellow cart, "Look at what it says on the side of the cart."

"Property of Las Vegas Crime Lab, #265," read Nick with a smile on his face.

"So that means he works here or he knows someone who works here or he stole a key from someone who works here," I said, "Well that's more then what we had a minute ago, but not much. Greg, I want you to go to the Janitor's storage room and see if cart number 265 is there, and if it is process it."

"Yes, Sir," he saluted then ran out of the room and down the hallway, towards the storage room.

"He can't really be someone who works here can he, Grissom?" asked Archie. "Everyone has to have a background check before they can work here, right?" he looked up at me.

"Well, yes, but a background check can only look at a person's past and if he hasn't committed any visible wrongs then how are we to know what he has really done."

"What do you mean 'visible wrongs'," he asked.

"Whether he got caught for what he did and it appears on his record," answered Nick for me as he realized what I was trying to say.

I nodded solemnly, "And if he was a janitor, then he probably wasn't checked as thoroughly as a lab tech or CSI would, because they don't handle any evidence."

Archie nodded his understanding as Greg ran back into the room. "It was… there… I found-," he said as he tried to catch his breath.

"Take a deep breath, Greg," I said as the young man in front of me heaved breaths in and out of his chest too quickly as he was trying to talk. "You're going to hyperventilate."

He just nodded his understanding as he bent over and placed his hands on his knees as he did as I told him. Then once he regained his breath he waved something in front of my face.

"I found it under the lip of the lid to the garbage can," he smiled as I grabbed his wrist to make him stop moving it so I could see what it was.

I inhaled deeply as I looked at the red swirls of a bloody finger print that was held gently between the white paper and the clear plastic.

"Take that to Wendy," I said urgently, as I watched him, from through the glass walls, run down the hall and into Wendy's lab.

"Don't worry, Catherine, we're coming," I whispered.

I hoped you all liked it! Please review, it makes me happy to hear what you guys think and motivates me to continue! Luv, Koolio! =}


	11. Crazed Smile

Hey, everybody! Here's the next chapter, hope you like it! And a big thanks to everyone who has been reviewing! =) ENJOY!

**Chapter 11: Crazed Smile**

**~ Grissom's POV ~**

I watched the white tiled floor as I paced slowly back and forth in Archie's lab as I waited for Greg, Nick, and Archie to finish their given tasks and quickly give me the get out of jail free card that had always escaped my hand when I needed it most, but right now more than just a few missed turns was hanging in the balance.

The only sounds in the small, glass-walled lab was the soft sounds of my shoes on the tile floor and the clicks of Archie's mouse and occasionally the typing on his key board by rushed fingers as he continued to scan expertly through the rest of the security footage from all around the lab trying to follow an unknown man as he pushed his secret cargo out of the lab and out of reaches of my protection.

I felt useless, I couldn't protect her when she was here and so close to me, how was I supposed to protect her when she was so far away, maybe even farther away than I ever wish to imagined.

I involuntarily pictured her laying dead on the ground, deep red, black blood pooling around her, being soaked up into her clothes, and tainting her beautiful strawberry curls which had last their bounce and joy as her life was being stolen from her by a malicious force. I then watched helplessly as an unknown and uncaring coroner laid a shockingly white sheet across her face and -

I was thankfully shaken from my distressing thoughts as Nick walked back into the room. He had gone down to the janitor's storage room to finish processing cart #265 which Greg had abandoned in his excitement to run the newly found print.

Hope lit up my eyes and banished the dark sadness that had crept into them during my short, but nonetheless painful daytime nightmare. But as I was about to open my mouth to ask, he answered my question in a defeated voice, "There wasn't anything else there, other than a small amount of smeared blood on the in side of the garbage bag. I'm sure it will come back to Catherine."

I watched as the sadness in his eyes seemed to move up into his forehead weighing it down and causing deep worry wrinkles to appear above the young man eyebrows.

"Don't let it get to you, Nicky," I said, hoping my voice wasn't shaking as much as my hands that were now stuffed deep into my pockets to keep anyone from noticing. He nodded his head softly in response as Archie told us he had Catherine and her attacker again, on the parking garage cameras.

Both Nick and I walked over and stood behind his shoulders and watched the footage on the large pull down screen that took up most of the wall in front of him and his computers.

The man pushed the yellow cart up to the second floor of the garage, soon stopping behind Catherine's dark blue Denali. He then grabbed something out of his pocket and walked over to the large back door and after a moment opened the lift gate allowing access to the space behind the back seats.

"How does he have a key to Cath's Denali?" Nick asked, "Her keys are in an evidence bag with her purse."

"He did go into her house to get the knife remember, maybe he grabbed a spare key while he was there," I replied, anger beginning to creep up my throat and into my voice making it sound slightly hoarse. I swallowed hard forcing it back down into my stomach where it had previously been churning with my hunger and worry, giving me a stomach ache.

I heard Nick exhale a long breath, apparently dealing with some of the same anger as well.

We continued to watch as the man looked carefully around before opening the lid to the garbage can and lifting Catherine out, he maneuvering her until she was laying on her side in the back of her own truck. He then leaned over her and gently moved the hair that had fallen down in front of her face off to the side.

"What's he doing?" Nick asked, as we watched him look at the tip of his right thumb, then slowly licked where the swirls of his thumb print would be. I shook my head silently as we continued to watch, conveying to him that I didn't know.

I saw out of the corner of my eye, Nicks mouth open in astonishment as we watched the man rubbed his thumb in the blood that covered Catherine's forehead, then proceeded to carefully press his now blood-covered thumb onto the under side of the garbage can lid.

"So he meant for us to find it?"

All three of us turned around to look at Greg who had been standing silently behind us.

"I guess so," I replied.

"Then this address is probably a dead end, huh," he said sadly, as he held out the paper that was in his hand to me.

"Maybe, maybe not," I said, as I took it from him.

I looked it over as Archie said that the man, whose name I just read as Jordan Shiler, was going back to the lab to put the cart back into the janitor's storage room where we could later find it.

"So he is a janitor here," I said as I saw the picture of his Crime Lab Janitor's ID card on the bottom of the paper.

"Yeah, he's been working here for about four months," replied Greg.

"He's coming back," Archie said, so we all refocused back on the large pull down screen on the wall.

He looked into the back tinted window and was apparently satisfied with what he saw because he then unlocked the driver side door, but before he got in he turned his head up and looked straight into the camera and smiled a smile that I will never forget. Then he climbed into the driver's seat, slammed the door shut, and drove casually out of the garage and towards who knows where.

Archie rewound the tape until the man once again smiled up at the camera, then he enlarged his face, and pressed print. Once the printer had finished coughing up Jordan Shiler's face on to the paper, Archie handed it to me. I stared at the face of a white man with a brown buzz cut and an eerily almost Hitler styled mustache that curved around his upper lip which was curled in that smile. A smile that along with the malice embedded in his dark brown, almost black eyes, made him look crazed and cocky.

"He looks like a nut job," said Greg, who had been looking over my shoulder.

"A confident nut job with nothing to lose," I said, as I looked at him, "We cannot underestimate him." Greg nodded his head and I notice a small amount of fear in his eyes as he looked at me.

"Ok," I said, "I'm going to call Brass and go check out the address. I want you two," I pointed at Nick and Greg, "To get his license plate number, it should be on file somewhere, and go check the parking garage from top to bottom. His car has to be there somewhere because he took Catherine's car when they left. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Greg saluted, then the two turned from the room and went to work.

"Good work, Archie," I said, before I too turned around and walked down the hallway. I called Brass and told everything we had just learned then told him to meet me at the truck, as I grabbed my keys from my desk and started for the parking garage.

Hope you guys liked it, I worked on it all day today cause I knew I've been bad at updating chapters frequently. Sorry bout that, I try I do, it just doesn't happen as fast as it should. But getting great reviews always helps encourage me to write the next chapter! Thanks to all of you guys who review it defiantly makes me feel better! =)


	12. Feisty

**Ok, I had a little trouble with this chapter, I'm still trying to figure out the kidnapper guy, Jordan Shiler's character so please review to let me know what you guys think . . . so I hope you guys like it I spent all day trying to make it good. Lol. You should have read it this morning, it didn't make any sense at all. =) Anyway, please review! I only got one reviewer on the last chapter and it made me sad ={ … thanks Kira699 by the way it makes my day to get reviews. Anyway I won't keep you any longer, enjoy! **

**Chapter 12: Feisty**

**~ Catherine's POV ~**

The throbbing pain in my temples had almost completely stopped, but hadn't disappeared just merely moved downwards into my wrists as they lay still bound behind my back. The unmoving plastic of the zip ties cut deep trenches into the delicate skin of my wrists as I repeatedly tried to pull them apart. But as hard pulled I only succeeded in granting myself more pain; a constant fire had, a while ago, settled deep within the nerves of my wrists making them numb, but with every pull that fire shot up my arms and into my shoulders.

With every unsuccessful attempt at freedom, my face contorted in pain, tightening the new scab that was beginning to form over the wound on my forehead and cracking the dried blood trail that ran across my temple and down my cheek.

I rested my face, now hot from my constant struggling, against the cold concrete wall, taking a few deep, calming breaths. My knees ached as they protested having to support my body as I knelt on the hard, unforgiving concrete floor that matched the walls. I had been in the same position ever since my captor had left, leaving me with his promise to be back as soon as he finished the work he needed to get done before we began his "plans".

I was curious to know what he was doing on the floor above as I listened to his shoes walking heavily across the floor above me, but I was in no hurry to begin whatever it was he had in mind to ensure the establishment his fame.

So I waited, doing the only thing I could do to distract myself and keep my mind from thinking about the horrible things he was willing to do in order to accomplish this fame he so desperately seeked, trying to free myself of the plastic restraints.

But as I rested my head against the calming, cool wall my heart began to beat faster as I realized how bleak my situation was looking. Here I was bound and trapped in a locked basement, most likely being watched by a fame-crazed man desperate to make his mark deep and permanent in the minds that littered Las Vegas and with my blood spilling into it, staining it red, to make it more easily seen from a distance and noticed by more than just the people of Nevada.

I shuttered involuntarily as fear crept into my spine traveling down then back up again, dragging its fingers along my ribs as it went making my chest ache and my breaths more nervous and shallow.

I shook my head in anger trying to rid my thoughts from wandering down that darkened path, but I made myself dizzy from the quick movement and fell forward slightly as I lost my balance, he head hitting my knees, luckily, instead of the floor saving me from probably reopening the newly scabbed wound on my forehead from where I hit the edge of my desk.

I stayed there bent over myself waiting for my head to stop spinning before I carefully I sat up straight in the dark, listening to only the sound of my own breathing. It comforted me to listen to the sound of life, the sound that every living thing made every second of every day til' death embraced it. And as long as I still had a breath to take in and release, I wasn't going to give up the hope that I would live a long life once I got over this little bump in the road that everyone called life.

I was jolted out of my minds pep talk as a screeching sound began upstairs; I soon recognized that it was the sound of a drill as I heard it make contact with whatever it was he was drilling causing the screeching to deepen its high pitched screaming slightly.

I realized that he was drilling through the floor as I noticed saw-dust began collecting on the ground next to the wall opposite me as the drill bit emerged through the ceiling then disappeared again as he pulled it back up, leaving a small circular hole where a few streams of light shown down from the story above.

I sat silently as he threaded a black wire down through the hole stopping when about two feet of it hung from the ceiling, then I heard his foot steps start towards the basement door.

I watched silently as he opened the door allowing sun light to flood the wall in front of the stairs and me as I sat next to it still on my knees as I squinted against the light until he blocked it with his body and then the closed door again. He flipped a light switch that was near the door and illuminated the square room with a few unnatural florescent lights that hung on the ceiling in the center of the room. I saw his face for the first time in actual light, instead of the dark, as he descended the stairs and was extremely disturbed by what I saw.

I had seen him before, I couldn't place exactly where but that mustache is not one that many people would wear, well sane people anyway, considering it was a slightly wider version of a Hitler styled one. Fear once again race up and down my spine at the though of him being even half as cruel as that repulsive murderer had been to the poor people of Europe.

I continued to watch as he stepped off the stairs, passed within a foot of my kneeling body, and walked over to inspect the hole he had created in the ceiling without even a sideways glance in my direction. This both worried and relieved me.

I continued to watch in a tense silence as he quickly pulled the wooden chair front the center of the room and set it next to the wall, bending down, he grabbed the duct tape he had set on the ground and stood on the chair, using it to gain height enough to reach the wire that dangled down from the unknown world above my prison. He then pulled what looked like a camera smaller than the size of my fist out of his pants pocket and plugged the end of the wire into the back of it then positioned the camera so it was against the wall about two feet down from the ceiling then taped it there using the duct tape. After making sure it was secured to the wall he adjusted the camera's lense down a little so it was looking at the entire room and not just the opposite wall.

Then once satisfied with his work, he turned to me and smiled.

"Well," he said, looking smug, "everything's ready for our debut to the world."

"I'm not sure I understand what's going to happen," I said, trying to sound innocently curious.

"Well, first of all that," he pointed at the camera he had just expertly taped to the wall, "is a web cam. We are going to let your monkeys watch as I, shall we say, have a little fun with you. Oh, I'm sure they will enjoy it very much as I allow them and a few you-tubers watch me break you."

He must have noticed the anger that had begun to settle in my eyes, for he stopped and snorted a laugh. "Oh yes, I'm sorry I forgot to mention that I will also be posting the live feed online and sending link to all the local and national news channels in the country, just so no one will miss out on our..," he hesitated looking for the right word, "adventures."

I just stared at him in disbelief, all the anger suddenly gone and my eyes portrayed my inner betrayal as the fears I had tried to lock away flooded them and I turned my head away from his smirking gaze to hide this momentary lapse of control.

I tried to flinched away as his rough hand gripped my chin tightly, turning my head back towards his black eyes as he was now kneeling in front of me. "Come now, don't turn away from me." He said softly, as if I was a small child that he was kindly reminding me to keep my elbows off the table. "I want to be able to see that beautiful face," he let go of my chin and laid his hands on the tops of my thighs, and I, still with my hands tied behind my back, had nothing to use to push them away so I glared at him, "Oh, ouch, that's a nasty look."

"Take your hands off me," I said, the hatred in my voice matching my glare.

He just smiled, "Feisty, I like that," he gave my thighs a hard squeeze before he stood, towering above me, "Don't lose any of that while I go turn on the camera and when I come back we'll put it to good use."

With that he turned and walked quickly up the stairs and out the door, closing and locking it behind him and as I stared at the door fear began wrapping itself around my chest, squeezing my lungs and making them work harder to get the same amount of air, leaving me breathless as I waited for him to come back. I had heard the saying, 'fame could destroy a person', but until now I had never thought about it literally.

**Review, review, review! Click that little button and type, PLEASE I love to know what you guys think & any suggestions are always welcome. And if you review I give you an imaginary cookie… any kind you want and you can have it! =) hehe **


	13. No Stone Left Untouched

**Hey everybody! I finally have the next chapter ready! I feel so bad that it took me so long to update, but I just had no idea where to go with it. So instead of posting some crap I waited until I actually had some where good to go with it. I've been writing nonstop for about 2 days now so I have at least a few rough chapters after this one so I do have a plan this time haha. Hopefully this won't happen again! I hope you like it! =)**

**Chapter 13: No Stone Left Untouched**

**~Grissom's POV~**

Brass drove hurriedly through the quiet, suburban neighborhood, eyes plastered on the mailboxes that passed in a rush on the left side of the car, while I focused on those passing on the right. I blinked to refocus my over-tired eyes on the numbers that were glued onto the mailboxes that seemed to blur together after a while. 438, that was the dreaded number we were so desperately in search of; 438 Whickamore, the address of a Mr. Jordan Shiler, the damned janitor that had taken Catherine right out from under me.

The silence echoed around the car, but I didn't start up a conversation. I was too worried that my voice would betray the chaos that was consuming my thoughts. I had never been good at caring for people, distance was just a necessary part of my life with a job like this. I couldn't afford to get attached to victims and allow that to get in the way of my work, so it just became natural to subconsciously shun even my closest friends. But Catherine, she just broke down all those decades of sturdy leak proof walls within the first night I met her. To this day haven't been able to repair them against her, though I'm not sure anymore if I want to.

She had been a stripper and I a young CSI, a case bringing me to the club, that's when I saw her. The sensual sway of her hips to the beat of the thrumming music wasn't what caught my everlasting attention; it was the way her the way her eyes caught mine. For a moment she simply stared at me, confusion written on her face before her mostly bare body began to sway once again, though with a new sparkle in her eyes that hadn't been there before.

She had told me a few years later, after she had begun working under me, that she had been surprised that night; not because I had looked out of place as I had originally suspected, but because I looked into her eyes instead of at her body. I remember how she had blushed when she told me, and looked down into her lap with a small smile of embarrassment touching her lips.

My vision blurred slightly as my eyes began to produce tears that I didn't have the time or the energy to cry. I desperately blinked them back as I couldn't see my side's numbers anymore. I was thankful when Brass began to say his numbers out loud; I used his voice to bring me out my reminiscence and re-centered my efforts on finding the address.

"425,427,429…" the cruiser began to slow as the numbers got closer. "It will be on your side, Gil," his voice was hard and determined, but I knew him well enough to understand that he was deeply burying his worry underneath his uniform. His emotions were always second to his job and right now I silently thanked him for that; I barely had my own emotions in check, I didn't have the strength to take in his as well.

"Yeah," was my only response as he went back to counting his numbers while I read mine silently.

"431,433,435…437" he pressed his foot on the brake and we stopped in front of 438 Whickamore. We both looked out the right side of the car at the empty lot that sat between 436 and 440, disappointment settling deep in our stomachs.

I heard him sigh then turn off the engine and open the door. "We might as well have a look around and talk to the neighbors while were here."

I nodded and too got out of the car to stand on the side walk. "I'll look around. You go ahead and talk to the neighbors."

"Yeah, sure, I'll be back soon."

I heard his shoes retreating behind me as I surveyed the lot.

I walked back and forth across the lot, using a systematic approach to searching the knee-high grass and weed mixture that covered the ground. It was 20 minutes before I noticed something red amidst the dirt.

I knelt down and moved the tall weeds that were blocking my view of the object. As I got a clear view of the object I noted it as a square piece of hard, red plastic that was sticking up out of a pile fresh dirt. Carefully, I began to dig around the plastic until I hit something metal beneath it. As I brushed the dirt from it I realized that it was a red mail flag attached to a metal mailbox. Quickly, I pulled some gloves on then pulled the mailbox from the ground. I took a quick picture of it before slowly opening the door to reveal a manila envelope inside, same as the one left in Catherine's office.

I knew I had to follow lab procedure if we were going to convict this guy even as my hands shook with anticipation of what was inside; this made it hard to pull clean gloves. Finally I carefully removed it from the belly of the mailbox, opened it, and slid its contents into my open left hand, before placing the envelope into an open evidence bag. My hands shook even more at the sight of the pictures that lay in my palm: there laid Catherine on a dark cement floor, her hands tired tightly behind her back, and her strawberry blonde hair falling over her face. She looked relaxed as if she was sleeping, although I knew she was more likely unconscious. It would almost be better if she was unconscious, I thought; then at least there was less of a possibility that she would be dreaming something wonderful only to wake up to the disappointment of finding herself where ever she is.

I had been so incased in my own thoughts, that I hadn't heard Brass come up behind me until he muttered a few curse words. I looked over my shoulder at him, then back down to her. I absentmindedly turned it over and noticed something was scribbled on the back.

"A web address!" Hope lit in my chest and ignited my heartbeat. "We need to get this to Archie, now!" I cried, and with a new energy to my movements I gathered everything and almost ran to the car.

When we arrived some twenty minutes later at Archie's lab, we found both Greg and Nick already there. Their postures were tense and unsure, as Archie typed fiercely on his key board, determination set in his brow.

"Did you get something?" I asked anxiously as soon as I walked in.

Nick turned to me, his features displaying a worried anticipation that I'm sure was mirrored by my own. "Were not sure yet. We found the truck, but it was completely empty and clean except for an envelope. Inside was a picture of Catherine, her arms were bound behind her back and I think she was unconscious, with a-"

"Website written on the back?" I completed for him.

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" Greg answered.

"We found the same thing. It was in a mailbox that was buried at the address we got on his employee card," I said.

"Archie's trying to figure out what's on the website," Nick supplied.

"Good." I pulled out a clear evidence bag from my pocket and handed it to Greg. "Is that the same web address as yours?"

He took it and compared it to the address that was written on a scrap piece of paper next to his Archie's key board. "Yeah," he replied as he handed it back to me. "But yours is just the address. This one has a note written on the back. It says '_just making sure' _and its signed '_JS'._"

"Jordan Shiler."

"Yeah, before it didn't make sense, but now with yours it does."

"He really wanted to make sure we found this website. I wonder why it's so important." I said.

"Then if it's so important, why not put it in the envelope that he left in Catherine's office?" Brass spoke up.

"That would be too easy," I answered.

"I've got the website up, but it hasn't been activated yet," Archie called over his shoulder.

"Thanks, Archie, page me when it is." I walked out of the lab and down the hall to find an empty evidence room.

As I finished lifting the last of the few prints I found on the mailbox, my phone beeped. I handed the print to Mandy as I looked down to see Archie's name flashing on the screen with the message _it's being activated_ below it.

"Mandy, could you put this away for me?" I asked as I ran down the hall towards Archie's lab. "Thanks," I called back to her bewildered expression.

Both Nick and Greg were already there as I rounded the corner to the office; all three of them had their eyes locked on the large pull down screen on the wall as a loading bar inched slowly towards one hundred percent completion. Five agonizing minutes passed by before it finally reached one hundred and then a button popped up which said 'view broadcast.' Archie immediately clicked on it, not giving me time to keep my stomach from dropping into my knees making slightly unstable; this reminded me too much of Nick's abduction a few years ago. Obviously Greg and Archie must have been thinking the same thing as they both just stared at the happily blinking lime green 'Play' button that now resided at the bottom left hand corner of the screen.

I cleared my throat softly, trying to keep my internal panic from becoming overwhelming, as Archie turned to look at me, the two others following his gaze to my face.

"Go ahead," I said, trying to project a stability I wasn't feeling into my voice; I don't think I succeeded.

Slowly he moved his mouse over top of it and clicked. Greg groaned loudly as another loading bar came onto the screen, but it took mercy on us and only took a few seconds to reach it's completion. We then were presented with the sight of a medium sized basement. It was lit in the unnatural light of the old fluorescents that hung from the ceiling. On the left side of the room, against the wall, was an wooden stair case; part of its top landing and door not included in the frame of the camera as it was on the same wall as the camera itself.

As I followed the stairs down into the room with my eyes, I noticed a woman knelt against the wall opposite the camera. I knew it was Catherine immediately by the strawberry curls that lightly fell over her shoulders. I couldn't see her face as her back was to us, her head lent against the wall to support her body as she struggle with the binds that held her wrists uncomfortably behind her back.

We all watched her silently, our eyes focused on her hands as they tried and tried again to pull apart the plastic zip ties that confined her movement. After a few minutes, her wrists settled against her lower back and her hands fell limp as she growled softly in frustration.

I watched her shoulders rise and fall with her breath for a few minutes before a loud click echoed around the concrete walled room. She slowly lifted her head and turned to look over her shoulder towards the top of the stairs, a slight frown of anger on her features. I noticed that the wound on her forehead seemed to be scabbing over, which was good, but there was a trail of dried blood that stained her left cheek making the wound look worst than it hopefully was.

As I stared at her face, her features suddenly became aglow in the orange light of the sunset that was spilling down the stairs and flooding the wall opposite the door. She looked beautiful as the light touched her hair and her eyes, but as quickly as it had illuminated her it was gone, a shadow in its place the shape of a sturdy man as he stood in the doorway.

She narrowed her eyes as he closed the door and began to descend the stairs. He was dressed in lose jeans and a grey t-shirt that he kept adjusting as he stepped down from step to step. As he finally stepped onto the concrete floor he turned directly to the camera and smiled. It was Jordan Shiler alright; I still hadn't gotten that smile out of my head. I don't think I ever will.

"Well, hello everyone," he said. His voice wasn't one of a pleasant welcoming, though, but one laced with a cold mirth that filled my shoes with a throbbing dread.

"I am," he placed his palm against his chest, "Jordan Shiler, and I will be your host for our most unique events." He laughed causing his eyes to narrow with a hostile gaze behind him and towards Catherine. "This lovely thing is Ms. Catherine Willows. She's a big CSI, you know; works for the Las Vegas Crime Lab." He continued to stare at her, his body facing forward as he twisted around to look back at her. I watched with unease as he lifted his chin, his smirk disappearing, a disgusted scowl replacing it. "CSI's think they're so smart. They think that they're so high," he turned fully around and took a step towards her, "and mighty," another step, "and untouchable." He slowly crouched in front of her. "But guess what," he reached out a hand, grabbed her chin, and jerked her head up to look at him, "I can touch you."

I jumped as his other hand connected with her cheek and causing her head to whip around from its force and a small surprised cry to escape her lips. I had been so focused on how hard his hand had been gripping her delicate face that I didn't even notice his other hand wind back in preparation to strike.

He stood up and put his hands in his front pockets, as to portray his indifference to the abuse he just committed, as he watched her with an obvious satisfaction as she glared up at him. I could see her forcing an angered demeanor to suppress the fear I knew was not very deep beneath her surface.

His smile returned as he began to speak, "Oh yeah, I can touch you and I promise you and I'm not going to let any opportunity to do it go to waste. As they say no stone left untouched."

"It's unturned," She corrected with a glare.

"Your right, it is," he smirked at her. "Well, I can make time for both."

**I hope you enjoyed it! I'm sorry again that it took so long to update, I'll get the next chapter up soon! If you leave me reviews it will make me even more motivated to finish the next chapter faster, so click that little button and type please! =) Thank you!**


	14. Never Give up

**Ok, so this is the first chapter that I've done both Grissom and Catherine's points of view so I hope it isn't confusing. Each one isn't very long so you kind of have to put together the observations from each person to get the whole story. Lol. Let me know if it doesn't flow as well as I'm hoping it will. **

**Also, I'm sure you guys are wondering how much time has passed, because I have been wondering that myself. lol. So I worked out a plausible timeline and in this chapter I figure it has been a little under 24 hours since Catherine was called to work and about 12 hours since she was kidnapped. I'm going to say that it's around 8 o'clock pm in this chapter. Alright I'll let you read now that that's all cleared up! =) Enjoy! **

**Chapter 14: Never Give Up**

**~Catherine's POV~**

I rubbed my swollen wrists as I watched him walk up the stairs, not seeming the slightest bit worried that he had turned his back on me now that I wasn't bound, that was both good and bad. Good in the sense that he may underestimate me, but bad in the sense that says he's a risk taker, the consequences be damned.

As he untied me, he had pointed out the dirty toilet that was hidden beneath the stairs next to a rusty, old sink. I hadn't even noticed it before as the single light in the room hadn't reached under the stair case causing it to be masked by the dark corner.

I slowly pushed myself up from a kneeling position, with the help of the wall, as he closed the door behind him and I heard the lock click into place. My knees ached as they pushed my weight up into a standing position, but the pain dulled as soon as they were fully stretched out and a great relief over took them for finally being let up off the floor.

I walked over to the dusty corner under the stairs, and once I stood in front of the toilet I turned around and looked at the camera from my position. Relief filled me as I noticed that this corner of the room was out of its view. A small blessing, I thought to myself, at least part of my dignity would be spared.

As I washed my hands, I bent forward and splashed some water on my face, sighing as the tired haze that had filled my eyes began to clear and the throbbing in my head lessened considerably. That's when I noticed the red tinge in the water and realized that the side of my face was covered in dried blood. Softly, I began to rub it clean, massaging my temples as I did to further reduce my headache. I inhaled sharply as I gently washed out the gash on my forehead and silently prayed that the water was clean and my efforts to cleanse the wound wouldn't, in fact, make it infected.

I dried my hands on my slacks as I finished, then walked to the center of the room. When I came to a stop, I looked up at the camera and into the lens, but as quickly as I did, I looked away. I had never liked being watched, it had always unnerved me. I suppose it's a type of survival instinct everyone's born with; one that was reinforced during my time as a dancer.

As a new hire, all the older girls had warned me to be careful of the men whose eyes followed you: the more intense, the more dangerous. I learned quickly that those men were always to ones who would follow me to my car or get upset when I told them I was a dancer not a whore when they had wanted more than I offered. There were only a few times when had I actually been afraid that they wouldn't take no for an answer, but eventually they would, so I had gotten used to ignoring them and moving on, though the feeling of deep unease never lessened.

Becoming as CSI didn't lessen it either, but it did give me the confidence to stand up to it. My badge gave me a safe guard that most would think twice before crossing and that made me feel secure. But now that security had been snatched out from under me and the people that I knew would protect me were just as trapped behind that camera lens as I was trapped in this basement.

I looked up towards the door and listened as Jordan Shiler walked around above me. He was making plans, what kind of plans I had no idea, but he had a plan and when he came back so would I.

**~Grissom's POV~**

As she walked back into view of the camera I almost smiled, the blood was cleaned from her face and her strawberry bangs covered the majority of the gash that was on her forehead. She almost looked like herself again, but the blood stain that stuck out against the neckline of her white tank top reminded me that she was still in danger and not in the safety of the lab, if even here was safe anymore.

I watched as she looked up and towards the door, after a few minutes of just standing in the center of the room. My heart leapt as I saw her eyes flash with the defiance and spirit that I was afraid he'd taken from her, but it seemed that it was still in there and ready for a fight.

With a new purpose in her step, she walked over to the far wall and leant against it. She then proceeded to take off her heeled boots, placing them softly on the ground by her feet. She then, with one more glance towards the door, began to climb the stair case, placing her feet lightly on each step so she wouldn't interrupt the silence of the room. She would take a few steps, then look to the railing that was on the outside edge of the stairs, as if studying it, then move up another few to do the same.

"What is she doing?" Greg questioned from behind me.

I shook my head, conveying the same confusion, without taking my eyes off her as she systematically continued up the steps. About midway up the stair case, it seemed she had found what she was looking for. We all watched as she quietly lowered herself to sit on the stairs facing the railing and grasped one of the narrow, wooden support posts that were holding up the banister. I knew what she was thinking as soon as I realized that that particular post seemed crocked and not as sturdy as the others.

"She's defending herself," I answered with pride in my heart at her courage.

Greg looked at me, and then turned back to the screen to watch as she gripped the banister with one hand and the support post with the other, a quick and hard shove to the post effectively and easily broken it from the railing, causing a smile to spread on her cheeks.

As she pulled the narrow post back through the hole it had left and held it to her chest, she glanced back up at the door then carefully hurried down the steps without making a sound.

"I knew she hadn't given up yet," Nick said with a small smile as he turned to me.

"Catherine Willows doesn't know how to give up," Greg responded, also smiling.

As they spoke, the pride in my chest faded and a fear entered with twice the strength. She could easily just be making her situation more serious and only make him angry; a very probable outcome of her bravery that could easily be disastrous. But I kept my mouth shut and forced as small smile as Nick and Greg looked at me. I didn't want them to fear needlessly, because they were right, Catherine never gives up and when her mind is set there's no going back. The only thought that kept me from completely panicking was that she also never did anything halfway; she always put herself fully into everything she did, and I just hoped that this time it would be enough.

**~Catherine's POV~**

I tried again to relax my tense body as I sat in the wooden chair, staring ahead at the wall the camera was on. I leaned my head back, letting the wall behind the chair support it for a moment, as I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, trying one last time to slow my breathing as I heard his steps stop near the door. My right hand rested in my lap while my left hand dangled from the arm rest where my elbow sat and fingered the wood post that was leant up against the chair there. It was not in direct sight from the stairs on that side so I hoped he wouldn't notice it.

I tried to make my face into an expression of indifference as I fingered again the makeshift bat that was my only chance at escape. He had already made it clear that he had no intention of keeping me alive and was going to use my death for his gain, so this was probably my only chance to survive and the only chance Lindsey had of not becoming an orphan. If I didn't try this I'd never see her again, or my mother, or the team. If I didn't try this I'd never have another chance to feel Gil's arms around me and tell him how I felt. How I ached to feel as safe as I did this morning as he held me in the locker room. If this didn't work, if I wasn't strong enough I'd die alone, or worse I'd die with him.

I quickly stashed away those thoughts and the tears that had unknowingly filled my eyes into the back of my mind and concentrated on my impassive expression as I heard the lock click open.

**~Grissom's POV~**

She took a deep breath; I did the same, as if she was silently instructing me to do so. She was keeping me sane without even trying, though she was also the reason I needed help to stay that way. My panic was making my heart leap into my throat with every beat it took and I wasn't sure how much longer it could stay contained. She had always confuse my emotions, though only when they were concerning her, and up until recently I hadn't understood just how she had affected my very soul.

I need her, more than I ever realized. And now, I needed to find her and she needed to stay alive while I did.

My throat had become dry so I lifted a glass of water to my mouth, that's when I realized that my hand was shaking slightly; my panic was starting to break out. Behind me, I could hear Greg shifting position every few moments and Nick's knee bouncing up and down causing a slight squeak in his chair that he obviously hadn't noticed yet. Archie was the only one in the room that seemed completely still as we waited for Jordan Shiler to open the door.

I noticed Catherine's expression instantly change from one of deep thought to one of complete indifference as Shiler began to descend the stairs.

Instantly, all the noise and movement in the tech lab stopped, as if the slightest jolt of the air that hung thick in the room would cause the luck we all hoped Catherine had to slip through her fingers before she could stop it.

**~Catherine's POV~**

I didn't let the painful fear that was thumping in my heart and pounding against my lungs show in my face as he bent forward in front on me, his face looming over mine. His dark brown eyes were murky with lust and it disgusted me. He reached out a hand to stroke my cheek, and I quickly turned away, letting my face flash with a small sample of my revulsion.

He glared at me then jabbed a long finger at my face. "You will learn some respect," he spoke, his voice low and gruff.

He then turned around and took a step towards the camera, leaving about three feet between us, and began to address it, seemingly ignoring me. Quickly, I took my chance, grabbed the post in my left hand, and stood up, making sure not to touch the arm rests of the chair as I did because I knew they squeaked.

I saw my move as he lifted his right arm to emphasize the words that I couldn't hear and didn't care about at this point, and before I could take another breath the post was gripped in both of my hands and swinging for his exposed ribs.

**Let me know how you liked it, please! =) The more reviews the quicker you get an update, (I promise this time, no more long breaks in writing. I'm gonna finish it!) but I'll need your motivation, so review! =)**


	15. No Second Chances

**I know it's short and I'm sorry, but I have been crazy busy with college. I'm a freshman this year and just a little unprepared for my honors class and its workload. Lol. But anyway, I figure that you all would rather have something over nothing, so since I got home early today I decided I would write for you. This is going in a completely different direction than I had planned for before but while I was writing this was how it was happening in my head. So the plans have been thrown out the window and I'm starting new, so the next chapter might be a little longer than a few weeks considering I need to figure out how everything is going to come together in the end. **

**Ooh and I modified the timeline I set out for you guys last chapter because I found some contradicting times that I had forgotten about in earlier chapters. The only change though is that it has been 18 hours since she was called to work not 24. Ok, enough rambling, I'll let you all get to the story. Enjoy! **

**Chapter 15: No Second Chances**

**~Grissom's POV~**

My body was so tense I couldn't move; my heart was frozen mid-beat and my lungs were burning with the carbon dioxide that it couldn't expel because my throat was in a knot so the pressure on my stomach wouldn't cause me to vomit. I saw the swing in slow motion and it seemed like an eternity before the post in her small hands even neared him. Finally, it connected; her face furrowed with concentration, while his showed a surprised flash of pain then deep anger.

Time then resumed it's normally fast pace and I could hardly follow the events that were unfolding before me. He turned and grabbed at her, but only catching the palpable tenseness in the air as she jumped back, her legs hitting the chair behind her and knocking her off balance. She quickly regained herself, but not quickly enough to move away from the large hand that wrapped around her throat and forced her backwards.

I shook as I watched her struggle against him. He had her throat in one hand and her right wrist, which held her weapon, in the other and both pinned against the unyielding wall. Her soft gasping breaths stopped as he tightened his grip and her face began to turn red. Her other hand desperately pushed at his face and pounded on his chest and arms, but he didn't even seem to notice as his grip held steady fast, his fast breathing dominating the silence in the room more than making up for the lack of hers.

A tear fell down my cheek as I noticed her struggles becoming slower and less forceful as the lack of oxygen was beginning to catching up with her. I didn't want to watch her die, but I couldn't turn my head, I couldn't take my eyes off her desperate face and I knew that the terrified look in her eyes would haunt me forever.

Her eyes began to droop; her left hand had fallen off his face and now was clutching desperately at his shirt, unconsciously gripping at anything to keep her from slipping into nothingness, where she knew death would soon follow. I heard a small weak gasp come from behind me as he let go of her and allowed body to slide down the wall and drop to the floor, the wooden post still clutched in her right hand hitting the floor with a resonating thud that shook my whole body.

I couldn't move, I couldn't even cry as my whole body was frozen and uncomprehending. At least I had convinced myself to look away, and I now stared down at the metal table to which my hands were clutching.

I jumped slightly as Shiler kicked away the post from her hand with a loud clatter, and numbly I looked up to watch him kneel down beside her. He roughly rolled her over onto her back and lent over her, I took in a shocked breath as he began doing compressions on her chest. The forceful thrusts jolting her body as it lay limply on the concrete floor.

Within 10 compressions she coughed and sputtered, and then took in a large gasping breath followed by a few more coughs. A small laugh like sob escaped my throat as her eyes opened for a moment before closing again, her chest harshly moving up and down to refill her oxygen depleted body. But my joy was short lived as Jordan Shiler's movement caught my eye and I reminded myself that she wasn't out of danger yet.

**~ Catherine's POV~**

I focused on clearing the fogginess in my head and slowing my ragged breathing before opening my eyes to face him. I could hear him moving, his shoes scuffing around on the concrete, then coming to stop beside me. He was obviously waiting for me to come around, but for what reason I wasn't sure and not sure I wanted to find out. He had already had the chance to kill me but didn't, so I wasn't sure about his motives anymore.

As my breathing regained a normal rhythm, I slowly opened my eyes meeting his angered face as he leered down at me from a standing position as if displaying his dominance over me, and I hated to admit it but it was working. I was scared.

"Thought I'd let you die that easily, Bitch," it was more of a statement than a question. He then knelt down beside my head and grabbed a hand full of hair; luckily my senses were slightly numb from the lack of oxygen so I barely let out a moan as he used it to pull my face up level with his. "You die when I say you die. I'm God in this equation, so you better start respecting me, because I can play the Devil too."

He gave me a hard look before he released me, stood up, and walked towards the stairs. I leant back and rested my heavy head against the wall as he suddenly stopped and turned back around to face me.

"I almost forgot," he said as he walked back towards me. I watched him with my tired eyes as he bent over and picked up the wooden post that was lying on the ground a few feet to my left. I had almost forgotten about it; that thing that had been my only chance at survival had failed, I had failed. Instead of leaving him crippled, I was now the one weaker than before and all out of options. He wasn't going to be caught off guard again, my only chance at a surprise attack had failed and surprises are one of the few things that don't give out second chances.

**~Grissom's POV~**

She looked defeated and weak as she slowly lowered herself to the floor, finally alone, and closed her eyes while wrapping her arms around herself. I saw a tear slide down her cheek silently and drip onto the floor, but she had always been quick to leash her emotions, so I wasn't surprise when another didn't follow. She was always strong whether she wanted to be or not.

Soon her breathing steadied as she succumbed to sleep and I found myself watching her chest rise and fall for some time, needing to be convinced that he had actually saved her. I looked over at the clock on the wall and read 8:33 pm; I realized that twelve long hours had passed since I had heard her laughter, saw her smiled, and held her in my arms for a few comforting moments, a comfort that was missing and would remain so until she was back in my arms again.

"Archie," I said as I turned to him, "are you able to triangulate the coordinates of where the feed's signal is coming from?"

"No, it's been bouncing from tower to tower, I can't track it," he responded dejectedly, looking more than a little bit ashamed of himself.

"There has to be a way to figure out where they are," I said more to myself than the others in the room, but nevertheless I got an answer.

"Maybe we can figure out where Shiler met the victim, Holly Wilson. There could be a possible connection we're over looking," Greg responded with a shrug.

I stood up and turned to around to face him, "Of course!" I exclaimed, and then pointed at Archie, "Archie, call us if anything happens. Nick, Greg, come with me."

**You didn't really think I'd kill her yet did you? No, we have much more to do first. And did you guys forget about Holly Wilson, our dead person in chapter 2? No? Well, I did haha and I'm writing this story! That's another reason for the complete rewrite of the ending, I completely forgot about her and how she was supposed to tie into the story line. Lol. That wasn't very nice of me. Anyway, please review they make me happy and more inclined to forgo my homework and write! =) **


	16. Breaking News

**I'm sorry it has taken me so long to update. I just thought of this little insert last night as I was falling asleep to keep you guys up to speed. I know that when it takes a while for updates you tend to forget what is happening in which story, so I hope this will help a little. I'm not going to promise a quick update for the next time, because I realize that I need to finish writing out how exactly I am going to end it before I post more chapters. Some parts of the last few chapters, for instance, have made writing the ending more difficult than I figured it would. I just wanted to get you all an update and wasn't really thinking ahead as well as I thought I was. So in an effort to have an ending to give you, I need to finish writing before I update again. But I'm hoping, fingers crossed, that it won't take too terribly long, because I want to finish it just as much as you guys want to read the ending - or at least I'm hoping you are.=) **

**Phew, my explanation's going to be longer than the chapter pretty soon. Here you go. Enjoy!**

**Chapter 16: Breaking News **

All across Las Vegas, and the surrounding areas, televisions flipped away from their normal programs to a screen that read 'Breaking News' in bold blue lettering on a red background. This screen then switched to a solemn looking woman in a gray blazer as she sat, hands folded, behind a desk.

"Hello, I'm Jessica Posie with Channel 12 News and I'm bringing you information on the kidnapping of CSI Assistant Supervisor Catherine Willows. It occurred early this morning, as Ms. Willows was getting ready to leave her graveyard shift at the Las Vegas Crime Lab, when this man," a picture popped up beside her on the screen, "Jordan Shiler, took her from her office. Crime Lab representatives have told us that he placed her inside a janitor's cart in order to get her off the premises undetected and then left in Ms. Willows' car, a dark blue Denali SUV.

"We have also been told that Shiler had only begun working in the Crime Lab as a custodial worker four months ago. A background check is required for any type of work inside the Crime Lab, but his came up clean, though it is unreasonable, at this point, to exclude that he may be using a false name.

"Shiler may also be involved in the murder of a young woman named Holly Wilson, who was found yesterday in her home, after an anonymous 911 call from her house. No suspected connections between Holly Wilson and Jordan Shiler have been supplied, at this time, by officials.

" There is no doubt that Jordan Shiler is the suspect in question for CSI Willows disappearance, as he has provided a live video feed of her via webcam; he has appeared in it multiple times. It was activated about three hours ago, but in that short amount of time CSI Willows has endured various abuses, the most serious being that she was almost strangled by Shiler after a makeshift escape attempt.

"Conrad Ecklie, director of the Vegas Crime Lab, has said that they are doing everything possible to find Ms. Willows and bring her home safely. He also asks that anyone with any information on Jordan Shiler or his whereabouts to please contact detectives by means of the number on the bottom of your screen or by dialing 911. Any information may be helpful, so please don't hesitate to call.

"We will bring you any other updates on this case as they come in. Thank you for your time; your normally programmed show will begin after this commercial."

As the news bulletin ended, a fifteen year old girl ran to the kitchen table and dumped out her purse looking for her phone. When she found it, she quickly hit number one on the speed dial and held it anxiously up to her ear. She began to sob as no one answered and looked expectantly at her grandmother who sat on the couch, mouth open wide as silent tears trailed down her cheeks.

**Well, I hope you all will review this time. Only one of you did on the last chapter – Dursilla Braun, thank you so much for your sweet comment. I took you review and turned it into this chapter pretty much, now that I think about it. You put the thoughts into my head, it just took until last night for them to stop swirling and give an image. =) **


End file.
